I have learned a lot. My own mother taught me a lot of valuable lessons of what I like to call "what-not-to-do's". It seems that I meet a lot of women who have horrible relationships with their own mothers. My soon to be Mother In Law reminds me every once in a while that I "only have one TRUE mother". I wish I could feel close to her. I wish I could feel that I make her proud. I wish that just once, she'd apologize with sincerity. I get apologies from time to time from her. She likes to do it like this - "I'm sorry you were hurt by that". She doesn't seem to understand how hurtful just that sentence is. You're sorry, but you're not sorry for what you did that hurt me, just that I happened to be hurt by it? What kind of an apology is that? I'll tell you what kind, it's the "FINE, I'll apologize, but only because you want it and NOT because I'm admitting that I did anything wrong!" kind. That's the worst kind. That's the kind that makes me think that you must not be very sorry or very sincere. An insincere apology is not an apology. It's a way out for you. It's a way for you to say that you tried.
For those of you that know me very well, you know that my relationship with my father was much more easy than that with my mother. My father tried his best, he told me that he was proud of me, that he was impressed by me and he always made me feel assured that I was always making the right choices. He stood beside me, no matter what I did. Do you know how lonely in this world you can feel when that one supportive parent suddenly dies? Your brothers don't make any effort to know you, much less keep in contact with you, your aunts and uncles barely know you and seem to not care much wether you live and breathe or not. Your mother only wants to be a woman, not a mother, not supportive. My brother Steve is my only family. He's all that's left, and all that cares. I feel bad for him because I see something in his eyes when I visit with him. I'm not sure if it's pain. But I do think that it is some sort of "big brother" responsibility. He knows I'm alone in this world and seems to want to make sure that HE is not one of the many blood-related relatives who just don't give a fuck about me and my life. I love him for that, but hate that he feels responsible. I could be way off base about him feeling responsibility, but there is something in his eyes, something that makes me feel like he wishes he could take care of me. I don't need taking care of, but rather support. I lost my lone chearleader in this world, and what I miss the most sometimes is having someone who was genuinly proud of me.
I don't mean for this to be one of those sad posts... I don't know what I mean for it to be as it is ass-early in the morning. It's just getting light outside and my world is full of questions right now. So I'm writing, that's what happens when I'm feeling all chaotic inside. Whoever reads this just gets to try to sort through the chaos.Good luck.
1 comment:
Natchra,
I feel much like you do. My father William Goodrum left me and my brother in an apartment when we were young. My mother abandoned us to and we went to an orphanage where finnaly my grandmother found us. I met my (our) dad and the half-sister (you) that I never knew existed when I was 21. I wish you and I knew each-other better. All I have in this world is my/your brother and my children. I came across your blog when I was trying to find our dad. Only to find he was dead. I want desperately to know what happened to him and I wish we could have been close. He also never said he was sorry for leaving me, for never trying to find me somehow it was my fault. He loved you so much. I think (feel?) that he screwed up with my brother and I so much that he did anything he could to be a good father to you. I am proud of him for that. I miss him and since reading of his death on your blog I cannot seem to think straight. Much like in your post I wish I had someone to be proud of me or tell me that they loved me. My mother and now father are gone. I have tried to contact you but without much luck. I think I spoke with your husband and he denied you existed. Sounds like dad. You are not alone baby girl. You are my blood and I will do anything I can to help you. I have been very lucky in bussiness but have learned that all the money in the world cannot buy family and the connection that blood creates. Our father lives on in us. the three of us, you, his namesake William Goodrum Jr. and me Gandalf Benjiman. I love you and long to know you.
Ben
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